Death Watch

We stand by his bedside and listen for each breath, each difficult breath assisted by the oxygen flowing into his lungs. Tuesday his breathing was difficult but no oxygen assist, Thursday they started antibiotics and he spent the day in bed. Friday he sat up for an hour but would have rather been in bed if he could have spoken. When all you can say is Yes, No, Bye and Hi, it's hard to communicate your wishes. Sometimes he opens his mouth to accept his pills in pudding and his Ensure drink, and sometimes he doesn't. The staff coax him to take his pills, to drink his drinks. We all know the end is coming but we don't know how soon. Saturday he was up in his chair but with the oxygen, which he has needed since Thursday. This is Sunday. The children have all been informed. His son brought a card from the family created by the children who haven't seen him since his birthday in August. His daughter will come this afternoon to see him. She is preparing a slide show for his memorial, whenever that may be, probably sooner than later. And so we wait, and wonder, and wait some more and wonder how the end will be and how soon. We are glad he survived the winter. Winter funerals are cold, and difficult. No funerals are good but summer is easier.

When his mother died, the whole family came from a distance and stood around her bedside for ten days. Then, everyone went home and she died, alone in her hospital bed while the staff were having their lunch.

We visited his sister in the hospital every day for almost a month. One night the hospital called to say she was dying and we sat by her bedside from 9 until midnight and then she fell asleep, holding her brother's hand. We went home and a week later, when the 4 a.m. rounds nurse checked on her, she was gone.

My mother decided it was time to go and stopped eating and drinking. After four days, she stopped talking and then fell into a restless coma. The family came to see her and sat with her, and then everyone went home. On a Sunday afternoon about four o'clock, she passed on. They laid a rose on her empty bed after Brian had taken her to the funeral home to be prepared for burial. He had been a Grade One student of hers and did a beautiful job of presenting her as beautiful and peaceful. She wore the dress I had sewed for her to wear to her grandson's wedding which she didn't attend. My friend chose the material for me.

And how will my husband's passing be? Will he also go alone? I brought daffodils yesterday; they should be open today. I brought a CD of a Welsh men's choir and one of a women's group. He seemed to enjoy the music. If there is time, I will get a CD of religious music, the songs that he grew up with for him to fall asleep to. I cannot sing him asleep; I have no voice for such a task. Others will have to do it for me.